


Fallen Angel

by alys609



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bad Boy Niall, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Hotel Sex, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lust, Masks, Niall-centric, One Shot, Orgasm, Sexual Content, Smut, a tiny tiny cameo by the others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:50:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alys609/pseuds/alys609
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween night and Jasmin has one mission: to have sex with that shadowy man across the room.</p><p>Ft. A (slightly) bad boy Niall, because everyone needs some of that in their lives, and lust at first sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen Angel

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, a Halloween one-shot I randomly wrote last week at about 3am. Also my first ever smutty fic, so yay! Please comment/leave kudos/show me some love if you enjoy, thank you! And, of course, Happy Halloween.

I’d seen him from across the dancefloor, his slick-black attire, absent stare and unimpressed attitude immediately drawing me in. For the rest of the night, I made him my personal crusade.  
It was Halloween, and I’d only come to this hotel party with my friends after their relentless pleas had forced me to cave in.  
“Why would I want to go partying?” I’d protested. My friend Naomi had raised one eyebrow in apparent abhorrence.   
“Because, Jasmin. You need to forget about him. You need to feel alive again, heck, you actually almost look dead. You need to get drunk, get laid and move on already.”  
And she’d been right: the alcohol that flooded my body seemed to eradicate all my inhibitions and concerns, replacing them with an unfamiliar sense of self-confidence and assurance. I had dressed up as a 16th century aristocrat, complete with a full-skirted silken ballgown and intricately braided hair; all doe-eyed and dainty heeled. Oh, and masked of course. It was a Halloween masquerade ball- surrounding me there were masked ghouls and masked vampires and masked witches.   
But as for what the mystery man across the room was meant to be, I couldn’t tell. His lean, fairly tall body was swathed in shades of black: onyx, raven, charcoal, ebony, jet, taupe. It made him look like an inky shadow.   
An inky shadow who was, apparently, completely indifferent to the festivities that were taking place around him.   
But his unconcerned, removed manner seemed too controlled and too forced to me. Every now and then, I could detect flickers of disgust and fury saturating his sharp features as he glared out at the partygoers. I even caught him glaring directly at me, leaning against a wall and pointedly glowering at my every move. It unnerved me. It thrilled me.  
After a while, however, I decided to set myself a new objective for the night: get completely drunk. My friends, who had come dressed as a gory, slutty cheerleader squad with big smiles, bigger cleavage and incredibly tiny skirts had already abandoned me in favour of male company, so I approached the bar area and ordered a drink on my own.   
“Can I get this drink for you?” I snapped my gaze up from the pumpkin decoration that I had been fiddling with to find myself face-to-face with an extremely intoxicated pirate. His kohl-smudged eyes gazed out at me earnestly. Why not, I figured. So I smiled warmly.   
“It’s a free bar.”   
“Yeah, but if it wasn’t a free bar, could I get that drink for you?”   
“Sure.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance just like that shadow across the room who was still quietly observing me, almost daring me to come over.  
“Let’s dance then.” With that announcement, the anonymous pirate grasped me by the elbow and guided me to the dancefloor that had been positioned in the middle of the room. Normally I would’ve felt uncomfortable at this stage but the alcohol that fuelled me had dissipated any hindrance, plus I felt I had something to prove to the silhouette across the room that was carefully observing me. I challenged him with a direct stare.  
The pirate across from me clutched my body closer to his and exhaled, his liquor-polluted breath blowing lightly across my face. We stood, swaying a little to the heavy beat that pounded through my ears, moving with the rhythm of the other bodies on the floor.   
Then he decided to remove his hand from where it was tucked around my waist and abruptly claw at my bodice, his stubby fingers seeking out my chest, my skin, my heat.

“Stop.” I warn him, forcefully removing his hands from my chest and feeling an anger flare up from within. Just because he’s drunk doesn’t mean I’m his for the taking, I thought. But apparently this feeling isn’t mutual because he instantly shoves one hand back into my bodice, roughly gripping my left breast, his other hand coiling around my waist and securing me. I try not to panic, but suddenly everything is overwhelming. The music is too loud. The people are too close. This room is too small.  
I glance over at the shadowy figure who has been silently watching me all night but for once my stare is not met- he’s talking animatedly with a guy dressed as Beetlejuice, whose disarray of brown curls and flamboyant, edgy yet elegant striped suit suggests that he could’ve walked straight off a runway.  
My attention is suddenly redirected to the pirate in front of me as he now clutches my wrists and leans in.   
“Get off of me.” I hiss, struggling against his hold.   
“You heard the lady.” A voice growls lowly from behind me, laced with irritation and the distinctive twang of an Irish accent; simultaneously velvety and rough. Immediately, the pirate guy releases my wrists, shoots me a glare and scuttles off; not before promising ‘I’ll be back’ from the sea of bodies on the dancefloor.  
“I didn’t need help. I was handling it.” I snap, whirling around to find my eyes centred on the shadowy profile from across the room, who was now staring down at me coldly. Somehow his face is completely different up close, those sharp features more rounded and comforting, his blonde quiff neatly disarranged and flicked up high. I appraise his figure silently: his body is slender yet muscular, his tightly-fitted black attire nicely highlighting his every curve and his raw, animal movements of speed and precision only increasing my attraction. And fuck, he smells amazing. And those icy blue eyes, framed by a black velvet mask, at once inviting and repelling me- they are amazing too.  
“Looked like you needed it to me.” His curt, gravelly voice snaps me out of my reverie, the hint of a delicious smile playing at his lips.   
“Well thank you, but like I said, I was handling it.”  
“Hmm.” He assesses. “Do you want a drink?”   
“I wouldn’t mind one.” I hear myself saying dismissively, again feigning coolness to try and hide the fact that, actually, I’m interested. Very interested.   
“What’s your name?” He offers.   
“Jasmin. Yours?” My response is met with a smirk.   
“I’m Niall.”  
“Niall.” I repeat slowly, tasting and enunciating every syllable.   
“I like the way you say my name.” He suddenly breathes sultrily into my ear, twisting a loose strand of my hair in his fingers. I freeze.   
“So Niall,” I say, disentangling myself from him, “why are you here?”  
“My friends forced me.” He replies flippantly, jabbing his thumb over to the Beetlejuice boy who is now joined by a mousy-brown haired knight, a dusky-skinned devil and a vivacious looking zombie. “Why are you here Jasmin?”  
“My friends forced me too.” I chuckle uneasily and an awkward silence, filled only by the whoops and hollers of partygoers and the throbbing base, hangs over us. “Why have you looked so bored all evening?” I finally blurt out, the words spilling from my mouth before I could stop them.   
“Excuse me?” He lips curl predatorily. Not one to be easily intimidated, I answer him honestly.   
“I saw you earlier and you’ve looked bored all evening. Why?”  
“I could ask you the same.” He answers, his vivid azure eyes dancing. “But if you must know, it’s because everyone here is available.”  
“Excuse me?” I splutter, taken off-guard by his response and painfully aware that my go-to response is something he’s already said.   
“Well look,” he instructs and gestures around him, “slutty, slutty, slutty. They’re all so available. They’re looking for someone. It’s boring.” He looks down at me through his lashes, those blue eyes enchanting me. Then his voice drops to a whisper and he pulls me to him. “But you, you’re a fair maiden, you’re not looking for me. You’re by far the most interesting girl here.” My pulse starts racing and I lick my lips feverishly.   
“Thank you?”   
A smirk curves his lips, and before I can continue he gently pushes me against a wall and descends on my lips, moulding his mouth to mine and flicking his tongue suggestively against my lower lip. I can feel his hands slink down, from my wrists to my waist to my thighs, until he’s rubbing small circles into the skin there. His mouth releases mine and moves to my neck, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses there instead.  
“Oh god.” I moan.  
“Yep.” He breathes huskily into my neck.  
“Yep what?” I ask curiously, placing my hand on his forearm to steady myself.  
“You’re definitely drunk enough to have sex with me right now.” He smoulders.  
Well, I think to myself, that was the original mission. I surrender my lips up to his, feeling the noise and smells and sights melt away until we are the only two there, against a wall in the dark, his hips steadily rocking into mine. I can already feel his hardness against my clothes, and a wetness blooms between my thighs.   
“I have a room.” He groans, his voice coming out in a rasp. My only response is a guttural moan as he deftly moves his fingers past my clothes and to my lower lips. His fingers circulating there, I can feel my pulse throbbing. I need him.   
*  
What seems like seconds later, we’re tumbling into his hotel room, a sprawl of limbs and heated kisses and knotted hair. Niall kicks the door shut roughly and shoves me onto the huge bed that dominates the room; I prop myself up on my elbows and smile at him wantonly. We stop for a second and intensely stare at each other: dishevelled hair, heavy breathing and crumpled clothes.   
But mainly, pure primal desire.  
He races across the room and pins me down onto the bed with the weight of his body, resuming our kissing session. I feel his tongue trace against my lips- it’s surprisingly tender given our urgency- and demand access to my mouth, which I readily grant. He groans against my lips, his brow furrowing with frustration and hands digging into my sides, his hips bucking into mine harshly.   
Suddenly, there’s just too many layers between us.  
I tug at his black cotton shirt and he takes the hint, immediately breaking off our kisses to pull it over his head and reveal an expanse of untainted, pure white skin, sculpted into small but defined abs and flecked with coarse chest hairs. And that’s all it takes to drive me over the edge and abruptly discard my clothes as he removes his pants. Soon enough, I’m completely naked and he’s covered only by a small pair of boxers, the thin material straining under the expanse of his bulge. We begin kissing again, but this time he trails his lips down my body and past the valley between my breasts until he reaches my lower belly. He flicks his blue eyes up to mine.  
“You look…delicious.” He inhales, clenching his eyes shut. God.  
Rapidly, I push my weight against him and twist us so I’m straddling him, my thighs securing his bulge between my legs and my hands knotted in his hair. I bend down to kiss him, taking in his salty taste and soft moans. Then, out of nowhere, I feel Niall’s hands cup my breasts, massaging them gently then unexpectedly pinching my nipples, easily making them harden against the cold air of the room and eliciting a gasp from me.   
Well, if that’s how it was going to be.  
I rock against his bulge, massaging it and feeling it grow even more. I start off slowly, lightly, but gradually increase my speed and power as he continues to play with my breasts until I can’t tell whether the moans are coming from me or Niall.  
“Please.” I whimper, needing to feel him in me, against me. Nothing more is said as he swiftly disposes of his boxers and fully exposes his body to me.   
And it’s beautiful.  
He twists us around once more so his body presses into mine, the sweat that coats our skin combining and my raw desire amplified. I spread my legs for him, never breaking my stare and revelling in his look of satisfaction. He aligns himself with me, lightly brushing himself against my lower lips and then, without warning, shoves himself into my folds, into my soaking warmth. I feel myself expand to his size and his cock twitches from within me; he thrusts in and out, each new movement renewing my waves of pleasure.   
“You’re so tight, so wet for me baby.” He half hisses and half grunts in his Irish drawl as a familiar burning sensation floods my lower stomach. Niall continues thrusting and I desperately throw my hips up to meet him, tangling my hands in his fair hair and then digging my nails into his shoulders as he breathes heavily into my neck, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and a look of intense concentration etched on his features.   
Letting out a low grunt of relief, Niall jerks into my depths once more and I feel him pulsate deep within me. I shut my eyes tightly as I’m driven over the edge and into pure bliss; a rush of desire and hunger and yearning flooding every nerve of my body as we both reach climax, our breaths coming out in short, sharp bursts and my walls clenching uncontrollably around his twitching cock.  
When our appetite is finally sated and our high has dissipated, Niall rolls himself onto the bed beside me, both of us still panting furiously.  
“Well that was good,” he remarks, a dirty grin tugging at his lips. “Up for round two?”


End file.
